Balls!
by Piper Sargasso
Summary: Cliches abound! Response to the Metaphor Challenge at Beyond the Sea. Complete


Balls! By Piper Sargasso

Disclaimer: These are all mine. The real   
characters would never be so stoopid!   
  
Author's Note: This bit of idiocy is for the   
Metaphor Challenge at Beyond the Sea. It's my   
first (intentional) badfic.   
  
Spot the fanfic cliches!  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
Mulder looked at Scully sitting across the room   
from him. A radio played in the background. It   
played Sarah McLachlan's song, "Sweet   
Surrender."  
  
  
"You take me in   
no questions asked   
you strip away the ugliness   
that surrounds me   
are you an angel   
am I already that gone   
I only hope   
that I won't disappoint you   
when I'm down here   
on my knees"  
  
"Oh my God!" he thought, "That's just like us!"   
But then he remembered that there's no way   
Scully could love a loser like him because all he   
could ever think about was Samantha and his   
Quest for the Truth. That, and all he ever   
watched was porn and he knew she could hear it   
through the thin motel walls. How many times   
had he wished she would come to him through   
the adjoining door? He always left it unlocked,   
just in case.  
  
His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and   
breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer   
without Cling Free.   
  
"Mulder," Scully said, breaking his reverie.   
"Look at this invitation that conveniently   
surfaced on my normally immaculate desk! It's   
the Annual FBI Charity Ball!"  
  
Suddenly, the phone rang. "Scully."  
  
She listened while Mulder spit sunflower seeds   
husks all over the floor. He even blew one all the   
way over to land on Scully's desk. She gave him   
The Eyebrow and went back to her conversation.   
  
"Hmm, hmm. I see. Yes, Sir." Sighing, she   
returned the phone to the cradle. "Mulder, that   
was AD Skinner. He said we have to go to the   
ball or it's our jobs. I never realized how   
expendable two highly intelligent agents with a   
high solve rate and a knack for uncovering   
government conspiracies can be!"  
  
And what will I wear?   
  
Mulder looked at her. Dare he ask her? There   
was really no one else and he was so afraid to go   
by himself or ask another woman because he was   
a social pariah and he still had no idea how he   
got along all those years before Scully came   
along.   
  
He never wanted to trust her like he trusted the   
endless parade of informants that lied to him   
repeatedly. He never wanted to fall in love with   
her like he did with Diana that hot, steamy night   
in Switzerland with two blonde twins, Heidi and   
Gretchen, and a bottle of Absinthe. But she grew   
on him. Grew on him like she was a colony of E.   
coli and he was a room temperature Canadian   
beef.   
  
He suddenly got courage all over the place. It   
was like Jack in "Titanic", his favorite movie.   
When he saved Rose. He smiled, remembering   
that scene. Oh, Scully. My heart can't go on   
without you.  
  
"Scully?" his eyes grew dark and intense. "You   
are my one in five billion. Please go with me."  
  
She thought about this, then gave a deep, throaty,   
genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just   
before it throws up. "Of course I'll go with you,   
Mulder. Everyone knows I can't get a date for   
myself! And who cares about the whole "inter-  
office dating" thing? I'm sure no one will notice   
two infamous agents grinding on the dance floor   
together."  
  
Since there was only four hours until this Ball   
began, and everyone else at the Hoover Building   
apparently had their gowns and tuxes in their   
desk drawers (and therefore had no need to leave   
early to get ready), Scully left early to buy a   
dress.  
  
She found a boutique with the perfect dress right   
away. She didn't have to worry about the price   
or the fit, because it was all perfect. It was in the   
window, so she asked the sales lady to take it   
down. When she came out of the dressing room,   
the sales lady cried.   
  
"Oh! You look so beautiful! That green, off the   
shoulder cut with bosom-heaving bodice is   
perfect for you! Is there someone special you're   
going with?" She winked like a woman with an   
eyelash in her eye that won't come out no matter   
how many times she blinks.  
  
Scully blushed and went home to change.   
  
Later --  
  
Mulder knocked on her door. When she opened   
it, he was blinded by her beauty. He fell for her   
like his heart was a mob informant and she was   
the East River. She was mesmerizing in her   
green dress and he could see the color of her   
flaming red hair for the very first time. Her   
beauty cured his red/green colorblindness!   
Maybe it was an X-File.  
  
She saw the hungry look in his hazel eyes, the   
kind you get from not eating for a while. She   
decided to hurry up and leave before she had any   
unpartner-ly thoughts about ravaging him on her   
floor.   
  
They pulled up in front of the hotel. The valet   
hobbled to them and took the keys. Mulder   
slipped him a $1 bill. "Keep the change, Buddy."  
  
The man smiled in gratitude. He really was as   
lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical duck,   
either, but a real duck that was actually lame.   
Maybe from stepping on a land mine or   
something.   
  
When they went inside, everyone stared at them.   
"C'mon, Mulder. Let's forget about these people,   
consume large amounts of alcohol and end up   
forgetting ourselves. We'll show them!"  
  
She spun away from him, twirling like a   
ballerina to the music. She rose gracefully en   
pointe and extended one slender leg behind her,   
like a dog at a fire hydrant. Mulder was turned   
on by her flexibility.   
  
Then they danced together. Remembering her   
flexibility, he looked deeply into her eyes. Her   
hair glistened in the light of the opulent   
chandelier like nose hair after a sneeze.   
  
She blinked at the intensity in his eyes and he   
held her closer. The whole scene had an eerie,   
surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in   
another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m.   
instead of 7:30. Shivers ran down her spine as   
his hand made contact with her bare back.  
  
Mulder realized he was deeply in love. When she   
spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a   
garbage truck backing up. He imagined her   
carrying his baby, standing in front of their   
house. They would live in a typical suburban   
neighborhood with picket fences that resembled   
Nancy Kerrigan's teeth. He wondered how she   
felt about the PTA.  
  
Suddenly, they heard Tom Colton's voice from   
across the room.   
  
"I'm telling you guys, that Dana Scully's as easy   
as the TV Guide crossword puzzle!"   
  
Mulder was mad. He was as mad as a   
construction worker that lost his sandwich when   
it fell from a skyscraper beam. He walked over   
and punched Tom Colton, who was very rude to   
him before in the Tooms case, right in his ugly   
face.   
  
Impressed by his manly display of testosterone-  
induced fury, Scully hooked her arm into his.   
"Let's go, Mulder. Will you take me home   
now?"   
  
When they got to the street, they stopped and   
looked at the stars. "You know, Scully," Mulder   
began. "I've loved you ever since you dropped   
trou in my motel room all those years ago."  
  
Overwhelmed with love, she answered with tears   
in her eyes. "And I've loved you ever since I first   
laid eyes on you. Oh, Mulder!"  
  
They kissed, and it was like fireworks were   
bursting all around. The earth tilted on its axis   
and their heads felt like they were spinning like   
Linda Blair's in the Exorcist. It was magical.  
  
"C'mon, G-man," Scully said with a wink. "Take   
me home."  
  
It was the most magical of magical things he   
ever could've hoped for.   
  
  
~ The End ~  
  
  
  
A/N: God help the future of America, but nearly all  
of the metaphors represented in this fic were actual   
ones used in high school papers. I am suitably   
terrified.  
  
  
  
  



End file.
